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Updated: April 30, 2025
The ocean was just out of sight through trees and down a steep bank. Paths wound along a narrow wooded peninsula with views of islands, tiny coves, wetlands, and pine groves. Picnic tables and grills waited in small clearings. It was a popular place in winter for cross-country skiing. The second bus arrived. People milled about reading each other's name tags.
Montpelier's administration was no challenge to Jamie after the Pentagon where his final assignment was to impress members of Congress with new weapons and the military "can do" attitude. "One look at the toys and they would come in their pants. Never lost an appropriation. Ha, ha, ha." His glance drifted out the window to the wetlands behind the house.
This was unusual; their meetings were always planned in advance. "Oh, oh, Verdi. She's not happy." Things were going well for a change. The Wetlands Conservancy had asked him to recommend and install an accounting system. They'd gotten a generous donation, Jennifer told him, from a bank. "Did you know that Jacky Chapelle is on the Board?" "I didn't," he said, surprised.
A ferry was halfway to Peaks Island. "Nice view," Oliver said. "I love the look of those ferries." "One of the better perks," Tom admitted. "The town is growing fast. I hope we aren't overstressing the harbor." "Often a subject of discussion at our house," Oliver said. "Jennifer does good work with The Wetlands Conservancy. We do what we can to help.
Oliver called and gave his mother the news, promising to bring Jennifer for a visit during the holidays. "There," Jennifer said, "that wasn't so bad. I want to meet your mom." "You'll like her," Oliver said. "Want to go down to Becky's? Honeymoon fruit bowl?" By Monday, they were ready for the working world. Jennifer gave him a goodbye smooch and drove to The Wetlands Conservancy.
"Oliver? This is Jennifer Lindenthwaite." "Hi, Jennifer." "I'm calling for the Wetlands Conservancy." "Oh, I thought you wanted to take me to Atlantic City." "Rupert might not like that," she said. "I suppose not," he said. "Ah, well . . ." "Can you do some work for us, Oliver? Our mailing list is in hopeless shape. We bought a computer, but no one knows how to do anything but type letters on it."
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